Nevada County picayune., 1887-02-23
MONSIEUR ALBANO.


 perhaps on 60, with closely cropped hair. and hat which Wilhelm could ilot keep iron, thinking was one size or more too big for him. X little old man with sad eyes, but with a pleasant voice, and a smile that often quite banished all trace of melancholy from his face.
 But Wilhelm the head-waiter at the dingy old Paris restaurant, where for months he had present. ed himself at the same hour daily had taken to him from the very first, and as the gentleman seemed to court retirement, used invaria- bly to ensconse him in the snug. gest corner of the room, not far from the charcoal stove -the time was winter-and with no other companions save pair of tabby cats.
 "Wha, is it to day?" NJ. Albano would inquire, as he seated himself at his table, with his feet on a nor sel of goat skin placed there for them. "What is it today, Will, helmw
 And Wilhelm used invariably to place a white di,Ypled fore-inger agai,.st the name of some particn- |, lar dish on the card, and that was the dish M Albano invariably chose. It was not long before Wilhelm found out that M. AlbanO was, like himself, Hungarian, and, like himself, an exile. They were friends, indeed after this. Will helm told the little old man his story, and to some extent, the little old man told Wilhelm his. There i was some difference, nevertheless, in their stations in life, for in his own dear land NJ. Albauo hadbeen a count, while Wilhelm had been but a junior engineer.
 And so you are really goingW said Wilhelm, as he stood one day near his friend, the empty soup bowl in his hand.
 "Really going, Wilhelm" "Oh, dear! Monsieur, shall sad, ly miss you. ''Is it Brussels, mon- sieur, Berlin, or Moscow? You say yon have had engagements at all these places"
 "No, mo-" replied NJ. Albano, sadly; it is neither of these places. I am done with them all-done i with the world, might say. l am going home" f.9 "Whn;!' cried Wilhelm, with . brightning eyes-hOme to our dear i land of ---'
 Nay, nay, nay; never there again. What matters imperial for givencss! Can king mend bro- ken heart, even if he could restore my fortunes? Could gaze with. f out grief on those green wooded hills and valleys that once were mine9 Could I minsle with the good people who dwell there-who once called mo lord without sad ness? No, Wilhelm, no. My home n is near London. the home of the x refugee, the only city in the whole world amid the hustle and stir of c which an exile may woo forgetful- o ness"
 s Wilhelm fingered by the table i, for few moments, He was deep m thought.
 "M Albano," he said at last, "to have employment in London has long been with me an ambitious l dream-a castle in the air-call it what you will l hate the garb of , servility in which you now see me. Oh! there are times, monster, that walk my room all night. wild in thought, because feel I was born for better. Yet l try 10 do my du- ty-my humble duty"
 "Ycs, yes, yes," said Albano, speaking more briskly than was his won't. "That is right-do your duty. trust do mine, humble though that is. Do not let pri de interfere with that duty. Be not scll-conscious. Concentrate your thoughts and energies in your work. mcnial though some may call it Believe me, Wilhelm. halo sur rounds the head of that man or wo- man wh" does whatever his or her hand fndeth to do, in no half hnortpl w,ty but with a will a mr.